Visitor from the Neath
by Atilas
Summary: Alice is running toward Pendle, chased. A Fallen London gentleman is spending his holiday at the Iron Republic. Used to the madness of the Neath and friendly knife-and-candle game, what is gentleman lost in the rather dull County is supposed to do? But only what any citizen of the Neath would do in such a situation, add their own touch of personal Neath normality to the situation.
1. Chapter 1

So, this is an idea I had while re-reading the Last Apprentice with a Fallen London tab opened on my laptop. For the maybe ten people who will read this, I will warn you in advance that English is not my first language and me writing sometime caused effects not unlike those of the correspondences cause to individual with weak mind.

Also, I probably won't update this more than once a month.

'_Thoughts_'

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><p><strong>Introduction<strong>

**Freedom from laws and tyrants. All laws and tyrants, without exception**

**...**

Alice was running through the wood, heavy footstep following closely behind her. When she had left Tom and began to make her way toward Pendle, she had expected it to be a little hard. It wasn't as if she was overflowing with allies over there and the risk of getting denounced or captured was very high should she ever commit a mistake. Except that this particularly dangerous part of the plan to get Tom family back wasn't supposed to become so half a day before actually reaching Pendle. In hindsight though, she should have expected something like an ambush by some of the witches men, too bad she hadn't.

Three man had started to follow her, apparently appearing from nowhere. They had been slow at first, keeping their distance. But, as the sun began to slowly set, they began to accelerate. From a slow walk to a simple trotting, then when the night had finally fallen awhile ago, a full run. Had they been simple thugs, Alice had no doubt she could have terrify or lose them, but somehow she could feel that they were all protected by some spell that she didn't knew how to counteract. And so, Alice to began to run forward. Using the last ray of fading light from a sun that had already disappeared over the horizon she oriented herself toward a thick forest, hoping it would be enough to lose her pursuers.

Again, with most the dense trees, low branches and generally hazardous terrain would have been largely enough. But with the three mans determination to catch her equal to Alice will to escape, their strong boots and overall strength were proving to be more than a match for thin pointy shoes and a hungry and weary young witch. She could hear clearly now the ruckus they were making as they barreled through the forest, breaking branches and crushing leaves. It was so close, to the point that she could almost feel their breathes on her neck. In front of Alice there was nothing but deep darkness that could have passed for floating ink, sharp bushes that were as high as her waist, flinging branches that threaten to painfully blind her and left bruise marks on her arms, hidden holes in the ground that promised to brutally twist her ankle and yet she was dashing through this with the desperation of a prey. With her mind in a state of primitive panic, it is then more easy to understand how she could commit one of the worst mistake that she could have ever done in her position. She looked behind her.

This brief instant of distraction was enough for her foot to caught an exposed root and sent her tumbling on the ground. She crashed face first, scratching her hands badly against the small rocks that littered the road she apparently had just fall onto. She would have questioned the why, how, and why again but she had more important things to think about. For example; the boot that impacted her back when she tried to lift herself from the ground, the second that hit her in the ribs, the hand that grabbed her hair and brutally yanked her up, those kind of things.

The pale moonlight that shone through the small breach into the forest cover that was the road illuminated the face of her chasers. None were pleasant to look at; their beards badly trimmed, their face bearing badly healed scars, their eyes gleaming with sickness, their clothes obviously having been stitched back together multiple times and there was a foul odor coming from them that was irritating her eyes. Even more unpleasant though was the large knife they were all wielding, particularly the one pressed against her throat. She could feel the slightly rusted metal against her soft skin, menacing to slash it at any moment and Alice really wasn't eager to learn first hand the many details of a resurrected witch life, if they even let her become one.

"So missy, what you're doing here?"

The one grabbing her hair from behind spoke, his rasping voice grinding the inside of her ears.

"Going to Padiham."

"Oh yeah, why?" The grip on her hair tightened, a twist more and they would start to rip.

"Visiting family." To her defense it was actually entirely true. She was going to go visit her family, just not all of it and at a good distance.

"Really, sure you're not following us."

"Hardly, you were behind me."

'_Huh._' The three were left speechless, apparently witty remark were a little too much for them, better stop it. Especially since they answered by punching her in the stomach.

"So you think you're funny hey?" '_Bitch witch_.' The man facing her smiled, it was a yellow smile full of gap, as his knife drew a red line on her cheek.

Alive was readying herself for the painful moment that where to come when the weapon suddenly left her skin.

"Martin!" A voice snapped at the man from the endless darkness.

'_Oh shit!_'

Feminine, high-pitched, unpleasant, dripping with promises of pain, the voice of a mature witch. She emerged from the shadows, tattered clothes, pointy shoes, crooked smile and knife in hand, the perfect image of the creature the Spook's books warned Tom about. Four inch smaller than the shortest man and yet they all lowered their heads when she walked up to them, fear in their eyes.

"Now, now, Martin." Her finger ran across the man chin. "Trying to have fun without me."

Martin began to utter the beginning of a word only for the witch hand to clamp over his mouth and around his jaw, enough to make him wince.

"Forgot your place maybe?"

"Nuuh." His two companions were looking away. "Nver."

"I hope so. I pity the poor witch who will be burdened with your pathetic bones should you ever become too arrogant."

Then she released him, scratching his jaw deep enough for him to bleed. Even in pain, he kept his sight to the ground.

"Now, put her down."

Now Alice was really terrified, screeching and wailing and kicking as the three man pinned her on the dirt road. She tried to use the Dread only to get a slap across the face by Martin, tried to bite his hand only to get a knee hit her ribs, tried to kick the witch only to get her ankle step on by her, almost breaking it. Once Alice was secured, the women kneeled on her chest and grabbed her left hand, forcing it open.

"Now Alice, do you remember me?"

'_Do I remember the witch who once flog me with an olive branch when I was five?_' She spat at Lucie's face.

"So you do remember me." Lucie punch hit Alice right on the cheekbone. "You know, I heard from someone that you were living with the old Gregory. Tss, tss, what would your mother say, your grandmother say, seeing their little girl turn her back to everything that define us to go work with a monster of the 'good side'. Have you helped kill any witches yet?"

"The old man don't kill witches." '_His apprentice though._' She was eying the girl knife that was dangerously skirting at the base of her thumb.

"Oh no, he only let them rot at the bottom of a hole. Constantly draining their power and life out of them for years and years. Some of them have been down there for what? Ten? Twenty years? Even your grandmother wasn't that cruel with her victims."

Alice wanted to protest, but she actually agreed with her.

"So, nothing to say? Of course. And what did you do to make him accept a witch into his home? You traded the live of your clan in exchange for a roof and some food... or maybe the old Gregory like little girl?"

The sheer outrage Alice felt at the mere suggestion kept her from even thinking of an answer.

"Really, no witty comment to that?" She shook her head. "Too bad little girl. Mad said I had to bring you back, but nobody said anything about you having your fingers attached."

The witch knife began to dig inside the flesh of her finger and Alice was ready to resume her screaming and fighting when the most out of place song stopped everything.

* * *

><p>"All around the mulberry bush<p>

The monkey chased the weasel;

The monkey thought 'twas all in good sport

Pop! goes the weasel.

A penny for a spool of thread,

A penny for a needle-

That's the way the money goes,

Pop! goes the weasel."

* * *

><p>Accompanying the nursery rhyme was the irregular sound of a hoof impacting the ground, almost as if it was following the song beat.<p>

The witch, the three man and even Alice, somehow, turned their heads toward the end of the road from which the commotion was coming. Out of the ink veil surrounding them, they saw the shadowy form of a human on an obdurate stallion slowly approached. The horse he rode was of the darkest black, a hole that seemed to eat even the pale moonlight. Though, from his muzzle to between his eyes, his coat was of an eery white that contrasted with the rest of his body. It was a deadly white, cold to the point of burning when you looked at it too much no matter how much impossible it sounded. On each side of it, his eyes were dark and heavy, always looking at you while watching everything in front of him, the threat of violence an instant away. Once a couple of meters away from the group, the person stopped his horse and his song, which Alice could have swear that was also sang by another voice that wasn't the man to her left mumbling it in his beard. Slowly, he descended from his horse, his savage Hob-nailed boots clanging against the ground with each step and producing tiny sparks when they scratched against pebbles, and walked up to them. His outfit was odd, but not in a bad way. It was highly stylish, way more than anything Alice had ever seen even if she didn't knew why and was giving off a feeling of discretion, as her sight seemed to slide on the dark tissue, and of danger and dread for when her sight did focused on him she could almost see the tension and threat of sudden violence barely hidden under the outfit. His eyes were hidden to all behind some strange round piece of something that might have been glass was it not for the impossible color they had or the fact they seemed to blend their border with the rest of the object. His hands were covered by two red gloves from which Alice got the feeling of, no, knew she was being watched. Had she known, she could have identified his clothing as an anarchist's sable, his red gauntlets with nacre reflections, voracious gloves, slid on his left middle finger; a brass ring, covering his eyes; irrigo goggles, tied around its right arm;a black ribbon, carefully hidden under his collar; the purple with two white lines ribbon holding an order Vespertine: Merciless medal, barely hidden around his waist; an foreign colt peacemaker, hidden under his left arm; a knife of Lost Sky, pinned on the lapel of suit; an iron token. And that wasn't even counting the equipments and weapons that his stallion was holding nor the seemingly disproportionate amount of little oddities, curiosities, mysteries and other that fitted in his pockets. One might consider to be extremely extravagant for one to travel with so much burden. This one should remember that in the Neath, the impossible never is and that any respectable lady or gentleman need to be able to adapt to it at the bite of an exceptional hat. Not that that would ever happen as exceptional hat have never biten the brain of their wearers, all who say otherwise are liars of the worst kind.

The man stopped a meter away from the group before bowing and speaking. His voice was vibrant, young, cheerful and with no trace of the Dark. Not that there wasn't something unnatural in his tone but it was something way more subtle than the direct feeling of disgust and fear from the Dark. For Alice, it was like if there was something scratching behind her eyes, that the sudden wind was murmuring little secrets in some dead language, that there was silver letters written on the floating leaves, that the stars were dancing and romancing each other in the sky, that the shadows had become deeper.

"Good day miss and sirs and my apologies for bothering you during your game but you see, it appear I am somewhat lost and was wondering if you could indicate me where I currently am and, if possible, the shortest way to the Iron Republic."

Not a sound was heard for a second if not for some barely audible whisper carried by the wind. Then, one of the man holding Alice down snickered and Lucie rose up, a twisted smile on her face.

'_Who the hell come forward with a scene like this in front of them._' Alice thought.

She walked up to the man, gently swinging her large blade back and forward in front of her. Alice felt the power rising in the other girl and the powerful Dread that she summoned over her figure. Even from behind, she sensed the feeling of horror the spell produced it her and even the three holding her winced and shivered as it manifested. The man though, did the only thing nobody ever do when subjected to the Dread, he smiled.

It wasn't some kind of horrified or nervous smile, no, it was the smile of a scholar who just had found a new interesting subject, of someone for who insanity was simply a state of mind among others and madness something to experiment when bored, a smile which showed white teeth that somehow felt off though she couldn't say why and that put her nerves on edge.

"Oh, it appear I am somewhat confuse as I confounded you for a human. Please forgive me for I am a stranger on this land."

And he continued to smile, waiting for an answer that a speechless witch was not close to deliver.

"Hum." He adjusted the circle covering almost half of his face. "Maybe you do not speak proper English." He straightened up and began speaking strange words that only served to bedazzle the group even more.

The man frowned. "Not from the Orient either I see. French?"

More unrecognizable exited the man mouth.

"No? Well now this is becoming hard."

"What are you?" The witch finally spoke, grinding her teeth together as the words.

"Ah, you do speak English." He exclaimed before beginning to mumble to himself. "But then why having waited so long to answer? Is this strange energy slowing them? No, nonsense, she acted at normal speed before. Does the energy slow down their mental capacity? No, no again. She spoke with a regular voice."

With each word the man spoke and second he spent ignoring Lucie, Alice could see the anger of the witch building up until finally reaching breaking point. Witch are not renown for their patience after all.

With a scream of rage, Lucie raised her knife.

"Watch out boss." A high pitched voice suddenly screamed.

The next instant, the man had grabbed Lucie wrist, drawn a knife from under his coat and slashed her belly open. The witch produced a strangled cry when she felt the cold blade pass through her flesh as, for some reason, a mental and physical sense of loss and nostalgia had suddenly overrun her. She wanted to lie down on the road and simply wait, her organ and anything inside her body touched by the blade shared this sentiment as they simply failed. Her small intestine stopped working, same thing for her right kidney and ever her blood stopped coagulating. She had only a moment to realize all of this before the knife left her body and a hob nailed boot to the chest sent her violently crashing on the ground. The three men holding her down and Alice herself were completely stunned by the sudden dispatching of Lucie, now fighting to hold her bowels inside herself, in this sudden storm of violence. Also, who in hell had just spoken? No matter, shaking off the haze and fuelled by rage, the men charged at the unsettling attacker. They managed at grand total of two step before the curved piece of metal the man had drawn began its exploding barking. Blood splashed on Alice face when Martin back exploded outward after two lead slug had impacted his chest and utterly destroyed his left lung. The man who had held her hair jerked backward when another bullet passed though the soft cartilage spot that had been his nose and was now only a bloody mess from which brain matter was leaking. Finally, the last man got half his heart shredded and a hole on his stomach. Like with Lucie, the whole thing had lasted less than five second.

Alice rested on the ground, her mind trying to pierce the sudden fog that had fallen on her and was slowing down her brain and movement, as if she was moving and thinking through mud. In this state, she almost didn't heard the conversation that the man and an invisible voice were having.

"Nice job boss." The odd voice said.

"Thanks Henry." The man played with his firearm, for Alice now knew that it was one, and walked up to his horse. "Here, for reloading later."

Was he talking to his horse? No, not his horse. Rising from the horse mane there was... A rat. A rat standing on his two leg and grabbing the metal cylinders from the man open hand.

"Hey boss, what about the girl?"

"G... Oh right."

The impossible color glasses turned toward her, sending shiver down her spine. He stepped in front of Alice, weapon in hand.

"Now miss, will we have a civilized conversation or must I treat you like one of those ruffians?"

There was only one silly question that managed to emerge from the haze of her mind. "What's your name?"

The man expression froze for a second, than passed in a rapid succession from surprise, shock, incomprehension and apologetic.

"Oh, how could I forget such a thing. Miss, please accepter mes plus plates excuses*." He took a step back. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Jonathan Adams, son of Charles Francis Adams II, American citizen by birth and a lethal, midnigh and sagacious gentleman of the Neath by choice. Captain of the swift Zee-clipper the _Firefly_, amateur archeologist, scholar of the correspondences due to voracious curiosity and insane folly, monster hunter to earn my crust, member of the black ribbon and enthusiastic player of the knife-and-candle in the moon league."

"Heu..." Alice hadn't understood half of what he had just said.

"And to who have I the pleasure to speak to?"

"Alice. Alice Deane."

"Well then miss Deane, now that we are both introduced, could you please tell me where I am and, if possible, the shortest way to the Iron Republic? If not, the way to Fallen London would greatly help me."

"Fallen what?"

"London." The man smile was back.

Okay, she had to be careful here. "Sir, hum, I don't think London has ever fallen anywhere."

His smile morphed into a concerned look, at least that's what Alice guessed.

"Hum, strange, we are neither at the Bethlehem nor the Mirror-Marches so it is not on my side. Miss, are you sure you are well?"

"Hum." The discussion had finished to disperse the last shred of fog around her mind, meaning that she was now more upset than terrified about the whole murdering thing and that, even if he was a cold blood killer with a talking rat, the man wasn't a danger to her unless she provoked him, probably. "Well maybe it his you who his confused sir."

And back was the smile. "Ah, but if I was I would have agreed with you and since I am not then it must mean I am not, in fact, confused and that it is you who is troubled."

"And yet I assure you that London had never fell anywhere. It is also you who is talking of land I never heard of. The Iron Republic? Americain? What and where are those place?" Damn, his speech pattern was contagious.

"Really?" His smile faltered. "You have never heard of the Iron Republic? The republic that is free of all tyrants and laws. Or the United States of America? The, a little less free, young republic"

"Never."

"Yet you know of London." Her whispered before falling silent. He raised his head to the sky, observing them through his strange glasses for long minutes before finally focusing on Alice once more. This time though, his voice was inquisitive and slightly apprehensive.

"Miss Deane, please, tell me exactly where we are. Officially."

"The county of Lancaster, England."

"I knew those weren't false-stars." Jonathan took a deep breath. "And when are we?"

"Sorry?"

"Please, the date, the year at the very least." His tone was almost begging.

"1638."

Immediately, he began to laugh. It was a wild and powerful laugh that was a mix of surprise, madness and delight. From the horse head, Alice heard a long impressed whistle.

"What is so funny?"

It was not the man who answered, he was still laughing and had begun jumping around, it was the rat.

"Missy, that's because back home it's 1891."

The date hit Alice like a stone. Did this man really expected her to believe he was coming from the future. Well, sure he had strange clothes, and weapons, and a talking rat, but that didn't meant anything.

"I knew that Time and the Iron Republic had tense relations, but to that point." Jonathan had mostly regain control of himself, now with only the irregular chuckle breaking his speech. "What a strike of luck I hadn't died yet."

"Come on, you didn't expect me to believe you come from two century in the future."

"Of course not." His smile back in place, he extended a hand to a still laying down Alice. Though a little unsure, Alice nonetheless accepted the hand. From up close she could see his blond hair, almost white from the lack of sun, no more than an inch or two long.

"I am a scholar, miss Deane..."

"Alice, just Alice."

"Miss Alice, and as such I fully intent to bring evidence."

Delicatelym he lead her by the hand to his horse. There, Alice finally got a good look at the talking rat. It could have passed for a normal one with his shape and brown fur if not for the bowler hat, green vest and snarky look he gave her. As Jonathan began to search through his horse saddlebag, she was left face to face with it.

"Hum, hello... Henry?"

"Hello missy."

"So you are... a talking rat?"

"Pfu, I'm a working rat, no some annoying pest missy." He crossed his hand on his chest. "I make and maintain almost all of boss arsenal."

"Yes." Jonathan had finally found what he wanted and had risen from his saddlebag. "I would have died numerous time without his skill. Now..." He handed to Alice a piece of paper. "My proof."

It was a large piece of white paper with regular black letters and with a large title at the top: **The magazine formerly known as the London Magazine**. And just under it was the date of printing, 1891. Across the sheet were articles about some Mr Wine, rats gang war, rating of the new murder of some Jack-of-Smiles, the declaration of a bishop and the... devils answer? This was nonsense, yet, such nonsense that it actually gave it truth.

"This, this is not possible."

"Miss Alice, in the Neath, impossible only mean that it has yet to be observed."

She said nothing, pondering the situation. At least she would have hadn't Henry spoken again.

"Hey boss, that's one running away!"

The two human turned their head toward the crawling Lucie. While they were discussing, she had slowly pulled herself toward the dark wood and, by the time they had turned their sight to her, it was only to see her feet disappearing in it.

Jonathan sighed. "Well, good riddance I say. Impolite wench."

Alice though, wasn't sharing the sentiment. "No, no, we must get her."

The man shook his head. "Sorry miss Alice but it his too soon for me to engage myself into others personal vendetta. Furthermore, seeing as we are at the surface, I doubt she will survive to see the dawn."

Alice could only grind her teeth at Lucie escape. Of course an open belly wouldn't stop her and now she was going to crawl her way back to the Malkin. By tomorrow, all of the clan would be after her.

"Dammit." Override by impotence, she grabbed a stone and threw it into the forest. That probably didn't hit her but at least she had done something.

"huh hum." The cough behind her made Alice spun on her feet. Leaning against his horse was a transformed Jonathan. The oddly colored glasses covering half his face had disappeared and revealed gray eyes that she couldn't decide if they were gleaming with insanity or with innocent glee. Though that didn't mean his face was uncovered as a beguiling mask was now in place, its color shifting from bright purple to deep black, one that Alice could help to find persuasive. In its right hand he was holding a tasselled cane that only solidified his style.

"As I just said miss Alice, It is not a habit of mine to introduce upon the private matters but I can't help to notice that you seem to have some problems with less than savory peoples. As I consider myself a quite lethal gentleman, it would be my honor as well as my duty to help protect you."

Alice huffed. "And what do you want in exchange."

To his credit, he didn't contested the accusation.

"Information, of course, the true currency of the Neath. I do have some vague historical notions about the 17th century but nowhere near enough. You, on the contrary, have both a vivid intelligence and interesting knowledge that I am interested into."

"Interesting knowledge?" She liked the compliment to her intelligence. It was rare anyone, even Tom, mention it but she didn't liked the tone he used.

"Yes. You a local of this time and place and thus a source of precious knowledge for me.

"And." Alice felt cagey. This man had proved to be a killer and a dangerous one at that. Hell, he even had withstand a Dread with a smile. Someone like that would certainly be useful to have around. But there was something off with this man that put her on the edge.

Jonathan took two step forward, stopping just in front of Alice. His smile had taken a menacing allure, his mask now ink black and his cane looking like a surprisingly good weapon.

"There is a strange energy around you, miss Alice. An interesting one. And I turned insane for less."

Fear twisted Alice stomach. "So what?"

"Let's make a deal. You tell me what you are and I will provide transport to the town of your choice and lodging for a night. Does this seem honest to you?" He extended his hand.

Back on the head horse, Alice could see Henry with his two thumbs up. She had no illusion that if she was to say no, Jonathan would suddenly leave her alone and go on his merry way. Though, he had been awfully polite and, in a way, honest, up to now. Also, he had a freaking talking rat. Maybe, just maybe he wouldn't turn into a copy of the Quisitor or the Spook.

"If you tell me of where you came from." She shook his hand

"Agreed."

"Aie!" And quickly took it back.

"Oups. My apologies, my gloves are quite voracious for knowledge."

A quick look at said gloves revealed to Alice an eager eye fixed on her and white nacre teeth now tainted with her blood.

"It's alive?"

"In a way, yes." Jonathan eyes were still focused on her, still waiting for Alice answer.

She massaged her hand and the now tiny holes along her palm. "I'm a witch."

She could have sworn his smile reached all the way up to his ears.

"Really? How interesting. Maybe the surface isn't as boring as I thought after all."

And with that he turned back and climbed up on his horse. His dark and dreadful horse.

"Miss Alice." He said, waiting for her to approach.

That was all. She had just confessed being a witch, something to be burned on the spot, an ally of the Dark and if some were to be belived the cause of all problems in the world and his only reaction had been: well, that's interesting. Let's go. Still a little bewildered, she walked to the horse who seemed to be menacingly eyeing here as she did.

"You're weird."

Now his smile was openly amused. "I am not, I am a Fallen London gentleman. There is nothing weird about me."

"Say the man I am not sure if he is not insane."

"That though I cannot say myself." Dammit, now he was making jokes.

He grabbed her hand and lift her from the ground to put her in front of him on his saddle.

"Where to missy?" Henry asked.

"South."

Immediately, the animal under them began to move. His heavy steps echoing threateningly through the night except for when he walked upon the bodies of Martin and the men without a care in the world.

"Now, where to begin." Jonathan started. "Ah yes. I know. Once upon a time, London was stolen by bats."


	2. Chapter 2

So, in the last chapter I unfortunately mentionned that Alice was going at Padiham while she was in fact more going to Downham. Sorry.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

**An ordinary candle, inscribed with tiny symbols of Correspondence. No darkness can abash its bold green flame. Ideal for birthday parties. **

* * *

><p>When Alice woke she immediately knew there was something strang;, she was in a bed, it was warm, comfortable, and dry, there was no smell. In short, that wasn't normal. Slowly, as the haze that slowed down her mind began to disperse, memories from last night started to emerge. The ambush by the men and the witch, check, the apparition of the weird man, check, the triple murder in less than five seconds, check. After that, things were a little fuzz. Mostly because the conversation they had was one of the most phantasmagorical, downright unreal in fact, that she had ever had. He, Jonathan, spoke of a cavern the size of Europe, of creature made of clay that walked and lived, of a place were everything was alive and candle screamed as they burned, of drowned people singing under bridges, a forbidden language that made people mad and paper burst ablaze, mysterious masters ruling London, an underground sea, the Zee, filled with monsters, horrors and mysteries and a thousand more unbelievable thing that nonetheless were entirely true. The worst was probably that he wasn't just spelling out academic text, it was all things he had experienced himself, tales of his expeditions on the Zee, horror stories of his search for knowledge inside London and the inevitable madness it resulted in numerous time. How could someone voluntary research something when he knew it would only end with him going insane, then recover its senses only to do it again? His rat, Henry, had added his own commentary for most of his tale, describing the inside of a whole other world of rats and small things as terrifying as the one Jonathan lived in.<p>

.

By the time they had arrived at Downham they both had barely finished to recount a tenth of their common adventures. Once there, Alice guided them to one of the more secure inn of the town, or the only one if you wanted to get technical, the Three Sisters. Jonathan had almost smashed the front door after the first five minutes of knocking and then, when the owner of the inn had complained about being awoken, had thrown a diamond at his face, announcing he was renting the building for as long as he wanted and that his horse better be cared for right now. That kind of kicked off the owner to say the least. Last thing she remembered was the fatigue that had finally caught up to her and the feeling of falling onto the bed and closing her eyes.

.

Her mind a little clearer now, she peeked at the room from under the sheets. It was a single room with a bed, a simple wardrobe, a big chest which also served as a table and a single window. Oh yeah, there was also Henry on the chest, chipping away a block of something.

"Awake missy?"

"Hum." She still found it weird to hear a rat talking in a so human way. "Yes. What time is it?"

"After breakfast, but a little before dinner I think."

"Okay, and where is Jonathan?"

"In his room, end of the corridor, talking with a cat."

"Heu..." Was that a code for something or was he really speaking with a cat?

In any case, she extracted herself from the blankets.

"Boss left you some clothes." He pointed at the wardrobe.

"Why?"

Alice looked down at her attire. The fabric of her robe was a little rough for sure, the brown slightly faded, the cut a little short as she had grown since she had got it and the design was extremely simple, but it was normal to her. Maybe it was her long pointed shoes?

"Miss, you look like a mix between a dirty urchin and a tomb-colonist. Boss words."

"Hu-hum. Really?"

"Swear. Me it's the shoes I ain't getting."

"What about my shoes?"

"Why pointy?"

"Because I'm a witch." That seemed self evident.

"If witch have pointy shoes, should you not wear anying but pointy shoes so people don't think you're a witch?"

"Because... I don't have any other pair."

It was a terrible excuse and they both knew it. The look Henry gave him was almost spelling 'really?'. As she was making her way toward the wardrobe she turned the question inside her head, finding no real answer and that bothered her. Especially has she thought of all the occasion when her shoes had been problematic. Maybe Tom brother wouldn't have been so aggressive if she had been wearing regular boots the first time they met.

.

She opened the double door of the wardrobe, revealing one of the most rich and unique outfit she had ever seen. First, there was the deep black leather boots that went as high as her knees and where laced by white laces. Sewed inside them were discreet sheaths onto which thin blades had been slid. Next was a two layers robe without sleeves that stopped once at her knees and a second time at her ankles. Thin belt at interval allowed to adjust the wideness. The robe was of a beautiful black, not a washed or – as weird as it sounded- evil as she usually saw. It was more like the black of a night sky, deep yet peaceful, and like a night sky each time the tissue moved Alice could have swore that brief flash of silver light like stars appeared in the clothing. Hanging on the side were overlap of light red silk hidding small pockets whose end where closed by buttons and gave her access to the underneath of her clothing. Then there was the blood red corset reinforced by sheets of steel, just tight enough to straighten her figure, but not enough to impede her, descending to her waist. Around it she had a large red brown belt to which an empty holster was attached. Finalizing the ensemble was a dark red jacket with large shoulders and long sleeves that slightly opened outward at the end.

"Wow." That was the only thing that inhabited her mind for several seconds. Then, the deranging question. "Henry."

"Yes miss?"

"Why did Jonathan have a dress my size and where was he keeping it?"

"Wasn't miss."

"What?"

"It wasn't your size and he was keeping it in his saddlebag." There was no inflection in his tone.

"But then how can it be my size? And his saddlebags weren't big enough for the dress, so how?"

The Rabbus Faber shrugged. "Clothing and pockets have their own will in the Neath missy. Best not to ponder about it too much, I think they would find it offensive."

"Who? The pockets?"

The rat nodded.

"That's stupid. A pocket isn't a... thing. They're pockets!" The frustration in her voice was evident.

"Really? You ain't ever put something in your pockets then, fo'r no reason they disappeared?"

"Hum, well... yes. But I don't see what it..."

"Offensed pocket missy."

That shut her up. Partly because she didn't feel like getting a headache by arguing so soon after getting up and also because she had the strange feeling that she might actually be in the wrong.

With a sigh, she walked to exit the room before stopping and turning back toward Henry.

"Hum, he... would you like me to transport you back to Jonathan?"

"Well that pretty nice of you miss."

A little uncertain, she extended her hand to him and, after having picked up his work, he jumped onto her palm. A little awkwardly, she carried him to the so-called gentleman room.

.

The moment she opened the door it wasn't brightness, but shadows that greeted her. The window had been completely covered so that only a dim ray of light entered the room, the only source of it beside the bright candle set on the table. Though the green flame wasn't reassuring in the slightest. In the low light, she could discern a large bed with a whole array of blades and firearms on it, some covered by heavy pieces of fabric, a table with a food plate on it, two chairs, a big wardrobe and a large flat chest. Jonathan was currently sitting in one of the chair reading an old and decaying looking tome by the light of a candle that hurt Alice's eyes. Not the light per say, but the indescribable symbols written on the wax that almost seemed to glow stronger than the flame.

"Alice. I see you are awake. Come, come, I kept a little food for you."

She let Henty walk on the table with his little bag before sitting down and beginning to eat. From most she would have suspected some form of treachary, but this man had had all night to do so and was already mad enough to smile to a Dread so she doubted there was really any quick spell she could use against him anyway, meaning there was no point to worry about. Alice engulfed the warm soup and bread on the plate, ripped parts of the apple, devoured the lard and drank the pitcher of water in less than five minutes with a passion rarely seen outside people engaging into a two-day travel without any food or water.

"Hum, It seem you were quite hungry."

The girl in red leaned against the back of the chair.

"That was great."

"It was my pleasure." He closed his book. "Miss Alice, now that you are rested and satiated though, I was wondering if you would be incline to answer some of my questions.

Ah, here it was, the true motivation. "What kind of questions?"

"Simple questions really."

"Will you answer mine as well?"

"But of course."

Alice adjusted her position and her dress by the same occasion.

"Then okay if I can start."

He nodded, still smirking. "As you wish miss Alice."

.

She focused her eyes on him. "Why the dress?"

"Because you looked like a dirty urchin and..."

"a tomb-colonist. Yes, Henry already told me. But why give it to me?"

"Many reason. I found myself in a similar situation a long time ago and thus know by personal experience that changing from rag to respectable clothing is an especially empowering experience. Also, you are a too beautiful maiden to be walking around in shabby clothing. Do you find it unacceptable?"

"No, no. It's just that I had never seen this kind of dress before."

"It is probably because it is the latest of London fashion and thus won't be created for at least two centuries."

"Ah, yeah."

"My turn then. Can I assume that the women who escaped into the forest was a witch?"

"Yes you can."

He smiled and it was as if the light in the room had dropped ten degrees.

"Okay. Yes, she was one."

"Then, even though she was mortally wounded, why did you insisted into going after her and was it related to her condition as a witch?"

"Well, because the only real way to be sure a witch is dead is by burning her or eating her heart."

"Really? What if you only burn her heart?"

"Hum, I suppose it would also work."

"And if you dissolve her into acid or base?"

"Acid? Base?"

"Ah, yes, 17th century. What if I were to grind a witch into dust?"

"... I don't really know."

"Then what if I put one in a vacuum?"

"A what?"

"A box empty of any air or gas."

"I don't..."

"And what if I froze one until her blood become like glass and shred her inside?"

"I don't know okay!"

There was a pause, then. "I have the feeling that people around here haven't really experimented this whole only able to be kill by fire or heart eating thing."

"Why would anyone do that?" The frustration in Alice voice was evident.

"But to observe, learn and understand. It is human nature to try to understand this world and all of its mysteries after all, no matter the cost. Though I can understand why you are upset. I suppose my talk might suggest that I want to kill witches on sight and consider them evil. I can assure you this is not at all the case."

She frowned. "I...never mind. Just go on with the weird questions."

"As you wish. Do witch have any supernatural weakness?"

"Salt, rowan wood, can't cross running water and silver."

"So a common resource, a common tree, a common occurrence and a rare mineral, understood. So witches cannot eat anything that as been salted?"

"Hum, I guess."

"Aren't you a witch?"

"Kinda."

He raised an eyebrow. "Kinda?"

"Well. I have been trained as a witch, but I never really used full blood, bones or familiar magic so I guess you need to do one of those to gain the weakness."

"Blood, bones or familiar magic?"

"The three kinds of magic witches use. A witch can do spells and that kind of thing but to boost their powers their can drink the blood of people, favorably young children, or using their bones, the thumbs especially, or even by using creatures, familiars."

"What kind of powers do witches have?"

"Stenght greater than a man, the power to sense people around us, premonitions, the ability to watch through mirrors or the eyes of their familiars, curse people, these kinds of things. I don't really think I could describe all of what we can do in less than a week."

She gave a weak sorry smile while Jonathan leaned back on his chair.

"It's not a problem. You simply have corroborated the information the cat have already told me."

"Which cat?" Henry had talked about a cat, but where was it? Was it a familiar?

The meow almost made her jump from her seat, the sudden black form that landed in front of her certainly did.

"Ah!"

The black ball of fur hissed at her and actually seemed to frown at her before walking away with its tail raised and curling around the marked candle. Even while bating in the green dangling light it seemed to be little more than a patch of air that had been filled with black ink.

"Where did it come from!?"

Jonathan simply smiled. "From wherever cats come from Alice. I don't think anyone, even the masters, can truly be said to know where they are and what cats do."

"But, you said it talked to you?"

"Well yes it did."

"How? Cats don't talk here."

"That is because you never asked properly noisy girl." The voice was but a whisper into Alice hear and yet she found herself absolutely immobilized by a terror like she had never experienced. It wasn't the terror of violence or of intimidation, but of some sort of inapprehensible force, a force that had crossed the distance between the candle and her shoulder in less than a second without making a single sound or even a swift of air moving. "You human always except everything to simply fall on your leap and happen immediately. Maybe if you'd learn patience and proper manners you would know then."

And just as swiftly as before, the presence was gone and the drop of ink back around the candle.

.

"..." Alice gulped.

"I do think they do, miss Alice."

"And... how did you convince him to talk with you?"

"By sneaking on her, of course."

The cat emitted a single low purr to which Jonathan responded with a single gentle stroke with only one finger from the animal head to the middle of its back. How on hell had he sneaked on that was beyond her.

"Anyhow. Henry, are the magnesium shells ready?"

She turned her head in the direction of the rat who was filling cylinders with a metallic powder.

"Ready boss."

"Perfect. Now then, what do you want to do miss Alice?"

"Sorry?"

"I agreed to be your bodyguard did I not? As such, what do you want to do today?"

"Oh, hum." She needed time to think. "Before that, why are some of your things covered?"

A pause, then. "Things unique to the Neath are destroyed by the light of the ungrateful sun."

There was scorn in is voice and undisguised hatred, as if this was a personal insult to him.

"Oh, will that be a problem?"

"No, no it won't. It is not the first time I had to walk under the burning light of our petty star."

"Okay. Then I think we should go meet an aunt. She is probably the only one who won't denounce me."

He rose from his chair. "It is decided then." Then grabbed a small revolver and slid it in her direction. "This one his for your hip holster." Then grabbed an even tinier weapon with only two minuscule barrel one over another. "And this one for your leg. You have four shot with the first and two with the second. I don't think you ever have fired a revolver before and we don't really have the time to train you so here are the basic. You need to cock the hammer before each shot, keep your finger off the trigger until you are absolutely ready to shoot, don't try to hit anything further than ten meters and watch out for the kickback."

Tense, Alice picked up the two cold metal object. "You're giving me this?"

"Yes. Do not worry for me, as the son of an American at London I made it a point of honor to live up to our reputation of gun obsessed and thus own quite a lot of them. Now let's go."

* * *

><p>Five minutes later they had packed up and Alice was experimenting the strange sensation of walking armed. Sure she had packed a knife before, but the revolver weighing down on her hip was a whole other kind of thing. As the noon sun raised to its peak, two figure left the town. One in red dress, like a drop of blood walking in the sunlight, the other a patch of black on a horse as dark as the blackest night that seemed to drag shadows with him.<p> 


End file.
